snow
by moonshadow3
Summary: A short story- a little sad. D/J, but anyone liking DC probably would enjoy it. Nostalgic romance/friendship


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SNOW

2001/July 2002

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By Moonshadow

She always thought of him when it snowed. Especially the first snow, when those first delicate flakes drifted to earth heralding the start of winter. Before galoshes and snowplows and slushy mudded fields. The first snow like a lacy shawl laid across the winter brown land, vanishing oft times almost before the sun rose the next morning.

The first snow was a time of wishes and hope and sometimes of mystical magic. The first time he said I love you to her, in that deep throated way a man lets a woman know he really means it, and all that comes with the words, it had snowed. First snow. Just then. She had looked out the window in a moment of complete stillness and utter quiet to see the first snowflakes drifting down, covering all with a blanket of new white. A moment of bittersweetness. Because she had loved him too, but when she whispered the words, he was already asleep, and she had not said them or meant them in the way a woman lets a man know she really means it, and all that comes with the words. She could not. Not then. And her heart ached because she loved him very much but not in the way he wanted her to, not in the way she had thought that she once had Before she had turned away from him. How can you give your heart to another when you do not know your own heart? How do you share your self with another when you do not know your own self?

It had been a painful realization, that her romance with him was not enough, when she had dreamed and hoped and agonized for so many months, even years, that one day he would look at her and not see only his childhood friend. Would see more than 15 years of laughter and tears, adventures and secrets, with the tomboy friend from across the creek. That he would see her as the young woman she was becoming, or at least wished to become; the girl beneath the tomboy. The girl she had wished to be for him and only him. And one day he had. Amazingly, this wonderful, amazing, funny, caring, sensitive hopeful boy, so gifted and supportive, had seen her with new eyes, and had kissed her, and she was no longer just the tomboy friend, and he was no longer just the stuff of girlish dreams. 

He had become real to her in ways she could not have imagined. Amazingly, excitingly, heart-breakingly real, in ways where her heart and emotions and body were stirred. In ways where the reality of him was too much to bear. Where she had turned from the very thing she had wished for …and gotten. Unprepared. Overwhelmed. Subsumed by him and their romance. Over-shadowed. Confined. Unhappy. The joy of her heart , lost to her.

They had been apart for some time now, partly by chance and partly by circumstances. His sunny blithely optimistic spirit dimmed now, from hurts and pains, both little and big. Some caused by her, some by the often unfair and harsh hand of fate, and some by the disappointments of everyday life that all must have to truly say they have lived. There was much less boy now, and more man. But it seemed unfair and ironic somehow that after so long wanting to be a man, that he would be, at least for now, a sad man. 

And yet there was still some boy mixed in with the fine man he was fast becoming. She could see it when, surreptitiously, she had watched him with the other girl. He was happier when he was with her, with the other girl of laughing dancing eyes, and warm smiles, of generous hugs, and giving body. The golden girl who made him smile even as his heart still grieved. The girl who was so different from her. The girl who did not cause him pain to look at.

Looking at her, you would not know that he had said that to her. That he would say such a thing to her, ever. Shattering a little piece of her deep down in the secret places of her heart. Shocking her with its unexpectedness, yet , deep down, she knew that it was the truth. He had only spoken the truth, and she did not want him to be lie. Did not want him to me sad. They were no longer children when problems could be solved with cookies and a game of tag. She had told him harsh truths too, when they were no longer children. It was an unpleasant but inescapable fact of their emerging adulthood. But still it hurt, sharp and deep. Surprising her with its pain.

She saw glimmers of happiness when he was with the other girl. It was just the way that it was. Once, she could have soothed him with just the touch of her hand, the look in her eyes, or a holding close of young bodies in that innocent time of childhood. She had no magic now with him. She was in discord, out of sync. There was no rhythm of existence between them, after so many years of being in tune, in rhythm. Different songs in harmonic counterpoint. Her minor key blending with his pleasing cheerful notes. Together, they had made their own music. Two very different personalities bringing out the best in each other. Helping each to overcome the worse.. But still so very different. An inseparable pair. Best friends. And for a time, a very short time, sweethearts. 

She had thought herself wise in the knowing ways of women. She had felt a feminine power which she had not had as a skinny boyish girl-child. She had thought to embark upon a romance which would be all satisfying, and all encompassing. Truly, there was magic in those first kisses; sharp delight in the intimate touch of his hand upon her waist, passing touches in the hallways of school which spoke so much more than just mere words. Unspoken words of belonging. To belong. To be possessed. 

Because of him, she had felt the rising tide of her mysterious woman-ness emerging amongst the bright and clear definitions of her absolute girlness. Deep pools of woman within her first flowering of femininity. For him.

And yet, it had not been enough. She was not wise in the knowing ways of women. She had only just left her tomboy existence to dwell in the land of boys and girls and romance. He had been her best friend, her teen-age fantasy, and she had lived in his shadow for much of her life, happy to be his confidant, his side-kick, his companion. He had come first because there was so much more of him to come first. He had been and still was, special. And when she had reached that time when she was no longer a child, she had found within herself such an energy, such a desire, to be special too. To not be defined by him and her relationship with him. And this sudden, surprising awareness had changed everything. 

Everything but her memories.

*******

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"Eat it!" "No!"   
"Eat it!" "No!"

"Eat it!" Dawson commanded raptly a third time, pushing the luscious fluffy little twinkie at Joey's face. "No" Joey said again, turning her face sharply away with a saucy toss of her hair, the hair whipping across her face, just as she had done the two times before . Dawson's five year old laughter pealed out, as usual. He always laughed the third time. It was a silly little game they liked to play, for no reason at all. Except it was silly and it made them laugh. Dawson always chose the fluffiest, lightest morsels, or the stickiest, gooiest, frosting covered ones. Ones he knew Joey loved best. And Joey would pretend she didn't want to eat it, tossing her hair around as much as possible as she turned her face away, pretending to reject- in the most petulant of manner- the treats he offered her. It delighted Dawson. It delighted Joey because it was silly, and because it delighted Dawson. She loved to make him laugh.

"Eat it or I'll make you eat liver!" Dawson threatened. This was part of the game too. Sometimes it was frog's legs, or spider eyes, or moldy toast. Whatever imaginative grossity Dawson's little five year old mind could think up. But he always thought up good ones Better than she did.

Joey stuck her lower lip out and pouted "If I have to" she continued on in the little act. "Don't make me eat liver, please, please, not the liver!" She would ham it up a little too, because Dawson liked his scenes dramatic. His eyes would really light up if she did a particularly good dramatic wail. Poor Mrs. Leary had learned to listen for this game, so as not to run up the stairs thinking Joey was really in trouble.

Dawson giggled some more, and Joey had trouble not giggling too. She usually couldn't stop a smile or two from marring her performance, but Dawson liked that too. He was easy to please.

"It's time to eat the twinkie, or it's liver for you", and then Dawson shoved, and none to gently, most of the twinkie into Joey's mouth. Not all of it, she was only five. But enough of it that for a moment her cheeks bulged a little and half the twinkie stuck out. Dawson had been feeling particularly ambitious that day, and had gone for the whole twinkie. Usually, he broke off a smaller piece if the treat was large, so that he could get her to eat it all in one whole bite. This was a small variation on the game, and they both laughed at the absurdity of half a twinkie still out of her mouth. This was the grossest of manners, which made it all the more hilarious. One did not shove whole twinkies into your mouth! Joey cupped the extra part of the twinkie and tried to chew and swallow most of what was in her mouth without laughing too hard and spraying it around the room, or choking. Mrs. Leary would certainly put a stop to the game if she saw how truly rude it had gotten today. 

The twinkie was delicious. Dawson had forgone his half share of it to play the game. She broke off a piece that had not made it inside her mouth and offered it to him. He accepted it gladly, happy that their little game had been successful. They had performed their parts well, and they had both laughed and giggled like idiots. And Joey had somehow managed to eat the messy treat without it getting onto the carpet. Life was good

"Oh look Dawson, snow!" and Joey ran to the window to look out.. Dawson jumped up and followed her right away. They stood together, shoulder to shoulder, a tall dark little girl, and a smaller blond little boy, looking out at the first snow of the new winter. The first snow they would really remember. "Let's make a wish!" Joey said excitedly. "Okay, you go first" Dawson said with growing excitement himself. He always caught Joey's enthusiasm whenever he was around her. When she got excited that is.   
"Oh, I wish on this snow, a huge red sled, and a big hill behind my house to sled down, and…and…" "A tractor to pull it up the hill!" Dawson chimed in excitedly. "Yah" Joey agreed "And lots and lots of snow so we can sled as much as we want." Joey finished with a flourish. Dawson looked a little worried. "But what about lunch, Joey?" Dawson enjoyed eating, and was starting to get a little chubby for it. "We can ride the sled, and eat lunch too, and then go on the hill some more" Joey assured him. "Okay", Dawson smiled, relieved. Usually he was the boss, the ring-leader, the master schemer, and it always made him a little nervous when Joey was in charge. She could be bossy sometimes, and she might forget to put lunch in their plans. He never forgot meals, and remembered most other things too, like teeth brushing and bedtime. He liked order. Joey sometimes didn't seem to need order at all. It scared him a little, but he liked it too. He liked Joey. She was his best friend.

Joey was quiet a moment. "Do you think your Daddy will take us on the sled?" Joey asked a little timidly. Practicality had set in. She loved the snowflake wishes, but she really wanted to sled. If nothing else, she was a pragmatic little girl. Dawson's daddy was probably the safer bet. Dawson looked at Joey seriously, thinking, all thought of snow dreams temporarily forgotten. "Sure" he said, and then his face lit up in a big smile. "My daddy will play with us all day, I'm sure of it!" he declared, his voice ringing with confidence. 

And his daddy did.

*******

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_It was late fall now_. Not yet winter, but there was a little snap in the air which was more than just the crisp tones of the golden-orange autumn, and the trees were starting to lose their leaves. She and Dawson used to walk through the small town, kicking the windblown piles of leaves, inured to the winter beauty around them. It seemed so strange now, not to have him walking by her side. 

Often, she would be in the middle of doing something, shopping, watching television, driving, and she would get a feeling that she was missing something, had lost or misplaced something, like that weird feeling you get when you've left your purse or jacket sitting on a park bench, only you haven't realized it yet. Only a nagging feeling that something isn't right, until it dawns on you that you have left behind your purse or jacket or keys, or whatever it is that you will miss if you lose it. She would get that feeling often now. And she would look around to make sure she had her purse and jacket and keys and books and whatever else she needed. And she would always have them. She didn't like to admit it to herself, but she knew what she was missing. She was missing that friendship, that boy, who was so much a part of her life and whom she was missing. No matter how different their life paths may take, she never imagined that she could walk through their little town, knowing he was there, and not see him or be with him; that if he saw her, he would look away, because to look at her would cause him pain. She could never have imagined it. Never.

As she walked through the town this late evening, for no reason at all, she turned and changed her course, to meander down near the town square, away from her route home. She had no need to go there, and she had seen the town square so many thousands of times that it held no mystery for her. But she walked to the town square anyway.

As she turned the last corner, and the town square was revealed, for a moment her breath caught in her throat, as if coming upon a surprisingly beautiful vista. But it was not a vista she saw. More like a vision. For across the deserted square she saw her boy, sitting on a bench talking to the other girl, that warm and golden girl who now made her boy smile through his sadness. She felt a little wrench in her gut. She always thought of him as hers, her property, even when he wasn't, and even though she had eagerly left him to see herself in the eyes of other boys, other friends. It was not enough for her to see herself reflected only in the eyes of her boy, and she knew it. But still, she felt that little twist of pain, because he was still so much a part of her heart.

Her first instinct was to walk up to him and smile and say hello, and just be with him, as she had been with him almost her entire life. It was almost instinctual. Dawson without Joey, Joey without Dawson was almost an inconceivable idea. The smile that came to her face at the sight of him faded, as she remembered that there was no Dawson and Joey, at least for now. Perhaps one day again. She could not help or heal him now. The other girl did that now. Joey stood a moment, watching them, and her heart and thoughts went out to him in a silent blessing, in unspoken compassion. She could see that he looked sad. This was not a loving conversation that he was having with the girl. It was a time of pain. She ached to go to him, but knew that she could not. Yet she took a few steps despite herself.

Suddenly, he looked up and across the plaza and saw her standing there. His face registered surprise and a little shock, despite that the town was small and it was not unlikely that they would see each other in passing. She stood still, uncertain what to do. He continued to look at her without speaking. She turned to leave, to leave him alone with the other girl, the way he wanted it, but he called out to her across the silent and cold plaza. 

"Wait, Joey" he called out to her, and she turned to look at him. He had stood up and was looking at her uncertainly, a look she could recognize even across the length of the darkening plaza. She wasn't sure what to do either, but he seemed expectant, even though unsure. She walked slowly over to him

"Hello Dawson" she smiled.

"Hello Joey" he smiled back, just a small smile

It wasn't an exciting conversation, but the polite little banalities meant the world to her, because he was willing to talk to her. Because he had called her back even at the point of her leaving. Because it didn't hurt him too much to look at her. 

She wasn't sure what else to say. What else could she say? She couldn't turn back the hands of time, couldn't undo what had been done. Couldn't bring the dead back to life. She wanted to reach out and touch his face, his wonderful face, but she would not dare. It was enough that he was smiling at her.

"Cold, isn't it?" he asked her just to say something.

"Yes, it is" she replied, huddling closer into her light-weight coat, not heavy enough for the cold of the early night. The remaining light was fading from the sky, and the soft streetlights came on, cutting through the dark chill.

"It's good to see you" he said, and she felt the pinpricks of unshed tears in her eyes. She blinked them away before he could see them. She did not want to add to his pain.

"It's good to see you too" she said warmly, in great understatement.

"Well, I should go" she said after an awkward moment of silence. It was enough that he had spoken to her- it wasn't the words that mattered. "It's getting really cold, and my coat isn't up to this weather." She smiled again and turned to leave. The other girl had stood up and taken Dawson's hand, a small reminder that he was with her now, and not with Joey. Joey was a third wheel, and she knew it.

"I wouldn't want you to get cold" he called out after her, and she knew he meant more than just the words. That he still cared. She turned and gave him a smile and for a brief moment they exchanged a pained and sad look, melancholy and sweet. There was still a lot of sadness and loss between them. It was not time yet to be friends again.

Just then, it began to snow.

Early snow- it was not even winter yet. Dawson looked up into the falling snow and a short burst of laughter escaped him; a large grin of wonder transformed his face. He looked down into the face of the other girl standing next to him, smiling. For the briefest of moments, he looked at Joey, but her back was turned to him as she walked away. 

Joey heard his laugh, the first laugh, and saw the light dusting of snow swirling around her. She turned to look at Dawson, as surprised as he, but by then, his face was raised to the falling snow. He was already lost in the moment, lost to her, lost in the healing magic of the snow, and she could only watch, silent and alone across the darkened courtyard..

A brief moment of nostalgia gripped Joey so sharply that she gasped, and she felt once again their separation, as she stood watching Dawson and the snow, first snow, early snow, falling around him, like pixie dust and angel crystals from heaven..

Snow which had once united them.

Snow, snow, 

Bittersweet snow.

The soft lamplight shown down onto two figures, and two figures only, standing apart from each other, illuminated in the spotlight of the streetlights, sparkling, glistening white flakes flitting and swirling around them in the lamplight, unexpected and magical. Two friends, separated but still together, caught in a moment of mystical magic.

-#13 Moonshadow-

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